You Will Not Be Alone Tonight
by Guardian-381
Summary: Watari, Tsuzuki, and Hisoka conspire to exorcise Tatsumi's internal demons. Post Kyoto, Tsusoka, other pairings implied.
1. The Corners Between Conscience and Faith

This story is an extension of my other Yami no Matsuei fic, a oneshot called 'Tinted Truth'. You don't have to have read it to understand this one, but it's short and would definitely give you a more detailed background for this story. And of course, the reviews are always welcome. (chuckles) Enjoy: more chapters will be forthcoming as time allows.

Potential spoilers: Up to Volume 9 of the manga and the entire anime series. I've seen/read all of it, and tend to throw spoiler-details around randomly without even noticing... so you've been warned. Rest assured, however, that I'm not out to rewrite Ms. Matsushita's entire plotline, so you won't find any redundant, cumbersome flashbacks here.

Disclaimer: I own no part of Yami no Matsuei. In addition, the chapter and story titles were all taken from lyrics of songs by The Story.

Chapter 1- The Corners Between Conscience and Faith

"What's that?"

Watari smiled as he carefully skirted the complicated network of test tubes, beakers, and glass pipelines arranged on his lab's central table. "It's my pet project."

Tsuzuki, who had been examining the flask until then, set it down as quickly as he could without risking its breakage. "Another sex-change potion?"

"So much time and energy wasted on such an impractical pursuit," Hisoka said from the corner nearest the closed door before turning another page of the book he was reading.

Watari put his hands on his hips and frowned. "The sex-change potion is far from a 'pet project'." He waited until at least Tsuzuki expressed the appropriate degree of contrition before continuing. "No. This is a potion that can enhance a Shinigami's spirit form with the ability to enter the dreams of others."

"Wow. Does it really work?" Tsuzuki crouched so that his eyes were level with the violet liquid in the flask he had been all too eager to get rid of only five seconds previously.

"Certainly not as advertised," said Hisoka, ever the sceptic.

" I haven't tested it yet." Watari let Hisoka's comment pass with a glare. "In fact, I was hoping that you would help me with that. What do you say?"

"I don't know, Watari." Tsuzuki's voice carried the apprehension with which a trained rat moves to meet the source of his previous punishments. "We've had some bad experiences with your inventions: remember that time we got turned into kids?"

"Don't forget the body-switching chocolates." Hisoka snapped his book shut. "Your past mistakes are the least of the reasons why this potion should never be tested, Watari. Invading people's dreams goes far beyond invasion of privacy: it's completely immoral, not to mention unfair and dangerous to the victim."

"Hisoka's right, Watari." Tsuzuki rested his chin on the table in front of him and rolled his eyes up to regard the scientist. "If we needed to do it for a case, I guess it might be useful, but we can't just use any random person as a test subject. We'd have to have a very good reason for doing something so drastic, or Tatsumi would kill us."

Watari's eyes flashed. "Funny you should mention Tatsumi."

Tsuzuki cocked his head in confusion. "Why?"

"I was thinking that he could be our test subject." Watari held up his hands to forestall the objections that would surely follow such a controversial idea. "Hear me out. It's obvious to everyone here that Tatsumi has things to work through, but he's too self-reliant to actually ask for the help he needs. In his dreams, though, where he's totally defenceless, we might be able to help him. At the very least, we might learn just what he's got to deal with, and understand him better."

"It's none of our business," Hisoka said. "I'll have no part of this, and if you insist on going through with it, I will warn Tatsumi. The reasons for his pain are his to withhold or share, as he wishes." He looked at his partner. "Tsuzuki?" The unspoken request, "Back me up," hung between them.

But Tsuzuki said nothing, at least not until a few moments had passed in silence. "Do you think... it might actually help him?" His tone carried a desperate hopefulness, one that could lead its bearer into the courting of any danger for its promised outcome.

"Well, of course there are no guarantees, but..." Watari trailed off deliberately, but his usual grin was conspicuously absent.

"Tsuzuki, you can't possibly be thinking about this. It's total... mind-rape." Hisoka's voice quivered slightly on the last word. "We can't--"

Tsuzuki looked up at his partner. "I want to help him, Hisoka. I want him to be happy again." There was a seriousness about his entire being that was remarkable because of its simple rarity, and though Hisoka opened his mouth to speak at least four more times, no further objections came from him.

Finally, he said, "I still think it's a bad idea."

"Does that mean you're going to help us anyway?" Tsuzuki grinned cautiously.

"I haven't decided." When Tsuzuki's grin began to waver, Hisoka amended, "I won't stop you, though." This earned him a tackling hug from Tsuzuki, and Watari cringed as Tsuzuki's momentum nearly sent the pair flying right into a carefully arranged set of particularly volatile chemicals.

"Let's plan this outside, then," he said, walking to the door and opening it for Tsuzuki and Hisoka. "It's nearly lunch break anyway, and it's less likely we'll be overheard there."

Hisoka nodded, extricated himself from Tsuzuki's embrace with the ease of long practice, and exited the lab. Tsuzuki followed, his grin turning slightly anxious. "I hope we're doing the right thing," he said.

Watari smiled, closing the laboratory door behind them. "I would have thought you'd have lived long enough to know that there's no such thing."

---

Amid Purgatory's perpetual rain of cherry blossoms, Hisoka asked Watari, "How were you planning to go about this?"

"Well, for starters, we can't all go in at the same time, or even on the same night. We have to minimize the strain on Tatsumi's mind." Watari's eyes flicked back and forth between them, as though he were scared of losing his audience's attention. "Also, the potion's effects aren't permanent, and since I haven't begun to examine the potential side effects of more than one dosage, we only get one shot each."

"And what are we supposed to do once we get there?" Now that he had nearly committed to Watari's gambit, Hisoka had begun to dissect its flaws. "What if we don't get an opportunity to do anything, or find out anything?"

"Yeah," Tsuzuki said, inhaling half of the pastry he had taken from the box on his desk on the way out of the office in the five second pause before the first word of his next sentence. "What if, when we get there, he's dreaming about pink bunnies hopping around, or counting stacks of money, or reading restaurant invoices?"

"Or something else completely unrelated to any issues he might have." Hisoka looked from Tsuzuki to Watari. "We'd be wasting our time, and violating him to no purpose."

"To be honest, I'm not sure how we're going to do this." Watari toyed with the end of one of his thicker locks of hair. "My best guess, however, is that our presence will upset the thread of whatever dream he's already engaged in: perhaps we'll even be able to control how and where it diverges, as though it were our own lucid dream."

"But we can't know for sure, is what you're saying," Tsuzuki said.

"Not until we've experimented a bit. Which is why I'm going to be the first one to go, tonight." Watari sat down on one of the stone benches underneath the cherry trees, and a stray blossom fell onto his shoulder. "You guys are going to need all the information I can give you. After all, you'd have to do most of the actual helping, anyway." There was no bitterness or resentment in Watari's voice: his casualty seemed synonymous with contentment.

"I don't think you--" Tsuzuki began, his tone pitched for reassurance, but Watari stopped him with an upheld hand.

"I don't mind. It's the result I care about, not who gets it." He smiled and rose to his feet. "I'll let you know what I find out. Maybe I'll do such a good job that you two won't even be needed."

Hisoka sighed. "Just be careful. Putting Tatsumi's demons to rest isn't going to do much good if you turn him into a vegetable in the process."

"You know, maybe we should just forget Tatsumi and try to work through your trust issues instead. What do you think, kid?" Hisoka's eyes narrowed, and Tsuzuki frowned even as he edged protectively closer to his partner. "Hmph. No one ever appreciates my sense of humour." With an abbreviated wave, he turned and began to walk back toward his lab.

"I'm not sleeping tonight," Hisoka said, and his seriousness made Tsuzuki chuckle despite his guardian instinct.


	2. A Rented Hotel For The Poor

Chapter 2- A Rented Hotel For The Poor

Tatsumi sighed as he let himself into his borderline ascetic apartment: it had been a long, trying day, and he would be glad to have at least an evening's respite from the job that seemed to have taken over his life at some point during the countless years he had spent performing it. He set the small bag of groceries he had purchased at a nearby convenience store down on the table by the door, which he proceeded to close and lock. The sound of the deadbolt sliding into place was followed closely by a series of rapid clicks as Tatsumi's thin fingers glided over the familiar surface of his alarm system's keypad: the device beeped, and Tatsumi nodded his approval before reclaiming his groceries and taking them to the kitchen.

After removing his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, Tatsumi cooked a nourishing dinner of rice and steamed vegetables. Once the dishes had been washed and put away, he showered quickly in tepid water and, dressed only in a light robe, knelt at his kitchen table to begin the reassuring process of balancing his chequebook. His neat pen-strokes and quick taps on the calculator's keys were interrupted only by his periodic sipping of a glass of expensive bourbon, one of the few luxuries he allowed himself.

Once the last bill had been appropriately considered and filed away, Tatsumi ran a hand through his no-longer-damp hair, removed his glasses, and pulled back the covers from his futon. As usual, he fell asleep almost immediately.

---

Watari swallowed the last drops of the potion in the hallway outside Tatsumi's apartment door, and leaned against the doorframe until it began to take effect. "I shouldn't be too long," he whispered before remembering that he had left 003 in her cage at home. _I'm compromising a covert mission in order to talk to an absent owl: no wonder everyone thinks I'm crazy._

With a deep, carefully silenced breath, he shifted into spirit form just long enough to bypass Tatsumi's mundane defences. He was all too conscious of his own limitations, and knew that every second he spent in spirit form before he entered Tatsumi's mind was one less that he could devote to getting Hisoka and Tsuzuki the information they needed. Still, he was severely tempted to maintain it even after gaining entry to Tatsumi's home, if only as a precaution against potential mission-breaking accidents.

To his credit, he was able to reach Tatsumi's sleeping form without causing him to even stir from what was no doubt a profound sleep. Snatches of poetry and song extolling the beauty of sleeping people crossed Watari's mind, and though he agreed that Tatsumi definitely looked different in sleep, he didn't find the secretary any more attractive than he had a few hours earlier. _It's probably because most people let their shields down when they sleep._ He moved his hand through the air over Tatsumi's face, and convinced himself that he could feel the thickness of the other Shinigami's aura against his fingertips. _You don't even get that respite._

In the aftermath of a sudden spike of urgency, Watari shifted into his spirit form and plunged into Tatsumi's mind.

---

The peeling wallpaper of the corridor in which Watari found himself when he was next aware of his surroundings was so distinct that he doubted that he was in a dream at all. _It's like I've stepped into an alternate reality. That's going to make navigation easier, but I doubt I'll be able to influence anything just by thinking about it. _He lifted his hand to brush the wallpaper, and bits of it dropped into his palm: with great effort, Watari was able to tell that it had been blue before its former pigmentation had given way to the sickly yellow-brown it reflected now. _I wonder what this means. It's a pity I'm a scientist, not a psychoanalyst. _

The corridor was lined with numbered doors, and the neglected cart of cleaning supplies in the corner across from the stairwell told Watari that he was more likely in a hotel than an apartment building. He leaned over and pulled the closest door handle: it came off in his hand, and he examined it cursorily before letting it fall to the floor in front of the door from which it had become detached. _Alright. More doors than that one to try._

But the next door handle also fell into his hand, as did the one after that. The fourth door Watari tried, however, clicked open easily, exposing a room that looked more like a cell than a temporary dwelling-place. The sole window, set into the wall across from the door, displayed only the brick wall of the taller building next door: the mirror against the wall to Watari's right enclosed an animate image of neatly-severed hands wringing themselves over a table. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a broken-down bed, and Watari barely recognized the quilt-wrapped figure perched on its edge as Tatsumi.

For a moment, Watari couldn't think of anything to say: Tatsumi's eyes, filtered though they were by the lenses of his glasses, were far more piercing than he could remember. "Who are you?" Tatsumi asked, and an image of Tatsumi on a throne momentarily overlaid that which actually filled Watari's vision.

"You don't know?" When no reply came, Watari sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yutaka Watari. Perhaps the phrase 'How much of the department's money have you wasted on that useless invention?' will jog your memory?"

"Watari..." Something flashed through Tatsumi's eyes, and his chin descended in a sort of half-nod. "Yes. I remember you now. Why are you here?"

_Good question. _"Why are _you _here?'" he asked, glancing around the closet-like room. "It's certainly not for the superior ambiance."

"I haven't got a choice. This is my life."

Watari cocked his head to the left, and thought for only a moment before crossing to the bed and sitting down next to Tatsumi. "Well... it doesn't have to be. There's a whole world outside this hotel, and I'd wager it's much prettier than this place." He quelled the urge to place his hand on the violet patch of the quilt that covered Tatsumi's shoulder. "I'd wager you'd enjoy it much more."

"I can't leave here." Tatsumi looked at him, and Watari was shocked at the total lack of sadness in his tone and facial expression. "If I did, I might bring the outside world down. Its continued health hinges on my seclusion from it."

"That's ridic--" Watari cut himself off just short of trivializing what could turn out to be an important insight into Tatsumi's pain. "What makes you feel that way? When did this start?"

"It's always been this way. I can't change it." Tatsumi pulled the quilt a bit closer around his chest. "You should go. The world is used to having you in it: you will be missed."

"Well, come with me, then." Watari stood, and offered Tatsumi his hand. "At least as far as the front door. You don't even need to leave this building if you don't want to, but at least see me out." He grinned. "Since there's no one else here, you're going to have to play host."

Tatsumi stared blankly at him for a time before nodding and uneasily lifting his hand to meet Watari's. "Are you sure it's alright?"

"Definitely." Watari smiled, and fought back the temptation to grab Tatsumi's hand and drag him out the door and down the stairwell. _He's got to do this on his own terms, in his own time. I'm just a support._

Eventually, their fingertips brushed, and Tatsumi's hand closed over Watari's. "Alright."

Watari eased Tatsumi to his bare feet and led him slowly down the hallway. Tatsumi hesitated at the first step, and again at the last, but eventually Watari was able to lead him to the empty entrance hall. The door was so old that it had rotted clear off its top hinge: Watari pulled on it gingerly, then more forcefully, but soon realized that he couldn't open it. _This doesn't make any sense. A breeze should be enough to bring this down_. He kicked it, and the noise echoed through the empty hotel, startling Tatsumi.

"I'm sorry," Watari said as soon as realized Tatsumi's intensified unease. "I can't get this door open. Will you help me?"

"It wasn't meant to be opened." Tatsumi's voice had become softer and gained a more cryptic note since Watari had last heard it, and Watari worried that all of his progress had been undone by one hasty kick.

"And you weren't meant to live in this place forever." Already, Watari could feel his powers weakening, and knew that he wouldn't be able to hold his spirit form for much longer before it snapped him out of this dream and back to his usual reality. "Please? I don't have much time left, and I need to leave. I need your help."

"That's what they said when they left me here." Tatsumi looked down. "That's what she said, and that's why he locked me up. So many people needed my help that I could never ask any of them for theirs. And every time, there was always one more... and so he would tell me I had to wait a little longer to leave. And one day he just stopped coming."

_Who? _But his time was too short for curiosity, and Watari took Tatsumi's wrist gingerly. "If you open the door, you'll help everyone at once, including yourself. You have nothing to lose. Just... please, one last time, help me."

"It won't be the last time." Tatsumi looked up at Watari, and his eyes softened for a fleeting moment before hardening again. "But I'll do it anyway. It's all I know how to do." He lifted the hand attached to the wrist that Watari held, and as soon as his fingers touched the door handle, the door vanished entirely.

Sunlight streamed through the open portal, and as soon as its first rays struck Tatsumi, the quilt evaporated: the resulting mist wrapped itself around Tatsumi's body, reminding Watari of a Sailor Moon transformation sequence, and became the familiar brown suit that Tatsumi always wore to work. _I hope this is a good sign._

Despite his quickly vanishing energy, Watari was able to hold himself in Tatsumi's reality long enough for Tatsumi to look over at him, smile, and say, "Thank you.".

And then, Watari was suddenly kneeling beside Tatsumi's futon, the comfortable sensation of Tatsumi's wrist in his hand replaced by a dull ache in his knees and the beginnings of a headache. He watched Tatsumi sleep, hyper-alert for any sign that his sojourn into Tatsumi's mind may have caused damage to the other Shinigami: only once Tatsumi's regular breathing had reassured him satisfactorily did he lift his hand to his temple and stagger laboriously to his feet.

_The rest is definitely going to be up to Tsuzuki and the kid, _he decided as he forced himself into spirit form just long enough to exit Tatsumi's apartment: the strain amplified his headache into a migraine, and he groaned over the creak of the door to the apartment building's back stairway. _This had better turn out to be worth it. _

_---_

"So? How did it go?" Tsuzuki said excitedly as he practically bounded into Watari's lab: Hisoka trailed silently behind him, at a safe distance. The hyperactivity in Tsuzuki's voice made Watari flinch, and he quickly swallowed the handful of migraine tablets that he had popped into his mouth just before Tsuzuki's arrival.

"Please, keep it down, Tsuzuki? I have a splitting headache, and I'm exhausted from walking all the way back home last night." He frowned. "I'll never take flight or teleportation for granted again."

"But I wasn't even talking loudly!" Tsuzuki clapped his hand over his mouth as not only Watari, but Hisoka glared at him. "Sorry."

Watari sighed. "It can't be helped, and I suppose it's my fault for... overstaying my welcome last night."

"Did you accomplish anything, at least?" Hisoka asked.

"I hope so. But the strange thing is that I don't think I was in Tatsumi's dreams at all. There was no hazy, chaotic quality to the environments: it was crystal clear, and almost too organized."

"Maybe that's just a Tatsumi thing?" Tsuzuki said. "I can't see him being anything but organized, even in his dreams."

"Or, more likely, Watari's potion worked differently than he intended it to," Hisoka said. "Instead of letting him into Tatsumi's dreams, it went one step further and placed him into Tatsumi's mind." He sighed. "The potential for permanent damage just tripled."

"Tatsumi's mind?" Watari massaged his chin. "That would explain a lot."

"Wow, Watari, you really are a genius!" Tsuzuki lapsed into puppy mode at Watari's renewed glare. "I'm sorry again. Really sorry. Totally forgot."

Watari waved his apologies away. "It doesn't matter." He looked over at Hisoka. "So, have you decided which of you is going in tonight?"

Tsuzuki's hand shot up immediately. "I'll go."

"He does have the best chance of making a big difference," Hisoka said. "If he goes before me, I might be spared participation in this whole thing entirely."

Tsuzuki sank beneath the edge of the table that separated him from Hisoka until only his eyes were visible to his partner. "That's a lot of pressure to put on one person," he said. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened, and he craned his neck to look past Hisoka and into the office proper. "Doughnuts! Wakaba brought doughnuts!" he shouted, completely unmindful of Watari's headache, and launched himself out the lab door, nearly knocking Hisoka over in the process.

As Watari massaged his temples, Hisoka said, "Did you find out what you wanted to know?"

Watari looked at him, half in pain and half in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You undertook this task, saving Tatsumi, with the intention of learning something about him. Your curiosity was obvious as soon as you began telling us about it." Hisoka folded his arms over his chest. "Did you find it?"

"Some of it," Watari admitted. As Hisoka turned to go, he said softly, "You know, kid, I do want to help Tatsumi. It's not just a curiosity thing: I care about him, too."

Hisoka looked back at him. "Ulterior motives do nothing to diminish true kindness." He spoke the words as though they were a treasured quote, and left to supervise Tsuzuki before Watari could respond to them.

Watari leaned back in his chair and tried to decide whether or not Hisoka had excused his motivations. It came as a surprise that the answer meant so much to him.


	3. Guilt Is Not Easier Than 'Sorry'

Thank you to everyone who has read this far into my story, in particular my two reviewers:

OmegaScorpio: You were encouraging me even before your review, when I saw that you had requested an alert on my story's updates. Thank you for complimenting my characterization (it's very important to me, and I work hard on it, so I'm glad it came through), and I look forward to more feedback from you. Let's hope you think I did Tsuzuki just as well:)

Kiko812: I'm so happy that you not only decided to give my work a chance, but liked it! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Thanks also to GreyGranian, for adding this story to their alert list. I'll take that as further encouragement, and hey, if you have time, a review might be nice. (winks)

Enjoy, everyone.

Chapter 3- Guilt Is Not Easier Than 'Sorry'

Once the work day was over, Watari intercepted Tsuzuki as he was descending the Ministry's main staircase, and handed him an unremarkable paper bag. "This is the potion," he explained when Tsuzuki looked at it warily. "Remember, that thing you'll need?" Tsuzuki nodded obediently. "It takes effect about five minutes after ingestion, and it should outlast your spirit power, so there's no fear of it running out before you do." He reached over to give Tsuzuki a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Best of luck."

Tsuzuki smiled. "Thanks, Watari," he said, and stuffed the potion into his coat pocket.

His feigned confidence lasted through the hours that passed between his encounter with Watari and his arrival at Tatsumi's apartment building: as soon as it came into sight at the end of the road, Tsuzuki hesitated. He wasn't afraid of being caught by Tatsumi: he knew that the other Shinigami would most definitely be asleep by then. What held him back was the all-too-clear knowledge that Tatsumi had always represented his emergency storehouse of strength: it was him, Tsuzuki, who had always been the weak one in their relationship. If Tatsumi couldn't defeat whatever he was facing, what right did Tsuzuki have to even try? Wouldn't he only make everything worse?

With a growl of despondent frustration, Tsuzuki turned away from Tatsumi's home and stalked back the way he had come. He would lie to Watari, say that he hadn't been able to accomplish anything, and leave the rest to Hisoka. With his empathic abilities and his book-wisdom, Hisoka would stand a much better chance of healing Tatsumi, especially since he wouldn't have to undo whatever damage Tsuzuki might have caused.

Tsuzuki was frozen in his tracks then by an unbidden memory of the cathedral where Luka had promised to find a way for everyone to be happy while she held Tatsumi's alter-ego. _All he wanted was her, but he never thought he'd be good enough, and she... _Tsuzuki looked back at the darkened window that he knew divided Tatsumi's bedroom from the outside world. _She took it for granted that she'd never have anything to offer him. And both of them would have missed each other completely if I hadn't come along. They would have been trapped by cages of their own design. _

He reached into the pocket of his coat, and his fingers found the paper bag as he started to turn all the way around. "All I can do is try, Tatsumi," he said, "but I really won't deserve you if I don't even do that." He pulled the bag out of his pocket, uncorked the vial, and downed the contents in one swallow. It tasted sweet, and Tsuzuki wondered whether Watari had added sugar to it for his benefit.

Resolutely, Tsuzuki planted his feet on the sidewalk and waited for the potion to take effect. His eyes didn't leave the black square of Tatsumi's window until he moved forward to begin his mission.

---

Upon entering Tatsumi's mind, Tsuzuki found himself in what appeared to be a well-tended garden. Attractive, perfectly symmetrical rows of flowers lined the white picket fence, their bright colours blazing in the sunlight. Not even the run-down building with its back to the garden could dampen its serene beauty, and Tsuzuki felt himself relaxing.

"This isn't so bad," he said, and smiled. "Maybe Watari really did fix everything."

No sooner had the last word reached his own ears than Tsuzuki heard a man cry out in pain; the half groan, half scream was followed by the crack of splintering wood, and Tsuzuki sighed as he broke into a run. _Hisoka's right. I need to think before I say anything._

"Tatsumi!" he called as he charged around the building and onto the front lawn, sure that Tatsumi had been the one to cry out. Here, the flowers were withered in places, and completely trampled and uprooted in others: the fenceposts were cracked, and even the sunlight seemed dimmer. As soon as Tsuzuki's eyes found Tatsumi, he understood why.

Tatsumi was standing on the building's front steps, tendrils of shadow swirling around him erratically. His victim, a man with violet wings and torn clothing, lay sprawled over the front gate: Tsuzuki could hear him whimpering, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." over and over, and had to shut it out of his mind lest its incessant chanting drive him insane.

"Tatsumi!" he called again, and Tatsumi turned his head just far enough to betray the fact that he'd heard.

"Not now," he said softly, and a whip of shadow struck the ground in front of Tsuzuki: at least five others struck the winged man simultaneously. He moaned in broken relief when they retracted, and Tsuzuki noticed that every pained noise the winged man made was met with a flinch from Tatsumi. _It's hurting him, too. He doesn't want to do this... but why doesn't he just stop?_

"Please, Tatsumi... please listen to me?" Tsuzuki took advantage of Tatsumi's seemingly-indifferent attitude to advance on him. "It's obvious that this isn't what you want. Please, stop."

"I have to kill him. I have to make it right." It was clear that the words weren't meant for Tsuzuki.

"No, you don't, Tatsumi--" Tsuzuki's eyes strayed back to the winged man as he spoke, and his voice disappeared temporarily at the sight of the purple eyes and black hair, identical to his own. _I think I'm starting to understand this..._ he thought, almost wishing that he hadn't understood.

"You shouldn't be alive. I cheated you out of death." Grey shards floated into Tatsumi's irises, and the shadows began to move in faster circuits around his body.

"Yes," Tsuzuki said quickly, trying to capitalize on what he saw as an admission of compassion. "You saved me. You did the right--"

"You don't understand!" The words came out sounding like a sob, but Tatsumi's eyes remained dry until his shadow drew another cry from the winged man. "I never meant to save you, only Kurosaki. If he hadn't been holding you, I would have left you to die." He raised his left hand to cover one side of his face. "Not only did I deny your wish, I had no reason to. I didn't love you enough to be selfish, and yet Kurosaki, the misanthropist..." Another wave of shadows lashed the winged man, whose cries were becoming less piercing and more resigned. "I did right by no one. Do you see?" A tear ran down Tatsumi's face. "All I have ever done is hurt you, and I can't stop, even now, even when we hardly have anything to do with each other. I still hurt you: I'm still in your way."

Tsuzuki barely heard anything that followed Tatsumi's confession: it took almost all he had to shelve his own emotions temporarily, to remember why he had come in the first place. _I have to help Tatsumi_. "People... people spend their lives hurting each other. But sometimes..." He thought of Tatsumi resigning from their partnership, and remembered Hisoka's gun prodding into his back like a personified Destiny's fingertip. "Sometimes it works out for the best." Other images came to him then: Hisoka's harsh, judgmental roughness, Terazuma's continued ignorance of Wakaba, Chidsuru returning to her old life just long enough to re-ignite Rika's pain, and Tsubaki's unflinching adoration of Muraki. "Love isn't the absence of that cruelty: it's caring about someone and wanting them around despite it." He paused just long enough to place a hand on his own chest. "I love you, Tatsumi."

Tatsumi looked away, and the shadows around him began to waver. He moved toward the winged man, and touched one of his wings gingerly, wincing as he realized that it was broken. "I can't ever make this right."

"It doesn't matter." Tsuzuki came forward, and placed a hand on Tatsumi's shoulder, causing the shadows to disappear completely. "It doesn't make any difference whose fault this is, or who hurts the most." He moved closer, until he was able to wrap his arms around Tatsumi's chest and rest his forehead against Tatsumi's shoulder. "I'll forgive you as often as I need to. All you have to do is ask me to."

Tatsumi's hands settled over Tsuzuki's forearms, lightly at first and then with a force that bordered on desperation. "I'm... I'm sorry," he said, and both the winged man and the gate vanished completely.

"And I forgive you." Tsuzuki let go of Tatsumi slowly, offering the other Shinigami one of his brightest smiles in response to his questioning stare. "It's time for you to move on now," he explained, struck by how similar these words were to those he said to humans whose lives he was about to end.

Tatsumi looked as though he would protest, but he eventually nodded. "Yes. Thank you," he said, and began walking. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the gate, the scene evaporated, and Tsuzuki was once again in Tatsumi's apartment, perched on the chair closest to Tatsumi's futon.

To his credit, Tsuzuki made it all the way to the relative seclusion of the back stairwell before he began to cry.


	4. Different Than Words

Wow, six reviews... that seems like so many, even though there are many stories (including my very first, most feeble effort) with over three hundred. And all so nice, not to mention articulate... a major thank you to all the reviewers before I get into the specific replies. Also, big thanks to all the readers. I'm really enjoying writing this, and I'm glad you all seem to be happy to read it. Thank you very much! (bows)

OmegaScorpio: Thank you so much for the Tsuzuki analysis. It was really nice of you to devote so much time and thought to my characterization, and I appreciate you sharing it. I'm also really happy that my work seems to have inspired you: writing is such a positive thing in my life. It actually saved it a few years ago, so I'm glad to be able to share it. Thank you also for your other compliments, and yes, Tatsumi's "I can't ever make this right," definitely refers to their relationship. Good job catching that! Oh, and thanks for the thought to add me to your list. I'm very touched by it, and hope I prove worthy of that honour.

Kiko812: Wow, and I only thought of one potential ending so far... you're so creative! You'll get to read the ending soon enough: in the meantime, no spoilers:P Thank you also for letting me know that you thought Tsuzuki was in character. I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope I've done the same for Hisoka! Oh, and thank you for adding the story to your favourites list:) I really do appreciate the gesture.

GreyGranian: Oh, trust me, I know what it's like to have no time, and I'm just glad you're reading at all! Thank you, however, for taking the time to review now. I'm glad you think my idea's original, and I hope you like Hisoka's chapter:)

Kira: Awesome, a new reviewer:) I was working on this chapter when I got your review, actually, and it totally inspired me. Heh... I told my friend before the first chapter was even done that Watari was going to be a tragic character in this fic. Guess I wasn't far wrong, huh? I also enjoy Tatsumi/Watari pairings, but it's so hard to do them right that I've become disillusioned with them. Most people just throw them together with no concern for realism or anything, really. I think it could work, but because there's so little basis for it in the canon, it requires a lot more work and skill on the writer's part to pull it off. I'm sure I could find some good ones if I worked hard enough, though. I'm glad that you also liked Tsuzuki, and I totally agree with you that Tatsumi needs a big group hug... hm, maybe next chapter? (winks)

Finally, thank you to The Bloody Rose (cool name, BTW!), for adding this story to their favourites list. It makes my day to see that little counter go up... does that make me pathetic? (Shrugs) Oh, well. There are worse things. (grins)

Enjoy the chapter, everyone.

Chapter 4- Different Than Words

Hisoka knew that something was wrong as soon as Tsuzuki shuffled into the office the next morning: not only was he missing his customary box of pastries and the plastic bag full of drugstore candy that usually served as his lunch, he was actually on time. "Tsuzuki?" he said as he closed his book over one finger. "What's wrong?" _Is he possessed again? _Hisoka reached out with his empathic abilities, and the carefully woven barrier with which his inquest was met both reassured and worried him. _Not possessed... just extremely depressed. Something must have happened last night._

Tsuzuki sat down in the chair next to Hisoka's and promptly put his head down on his partner's desk. "I can't face him, Hisoka," he said, so quietly that Hisoka had to strain to hear.

"Who?" Realizing that this was a stupid question, Hisoka leaned closer to Tsuzuki. "Tatsumi?"

Tsuzuki nodded, his hair brushing the desk's surface with a light swishing noise. "Uh-huh."

"Why? Did something happen?" Hisoka's eyes narrowed. "Did he catch you?"

"No." Tsuzuki swallowed, and turned so that he could look into Hisoka's eyes as he spoke. "He... I found out something last night. He told me, in the dream."

"What was it?" Hisoka asked once the following silence became too thick.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He didn't want to... He would have..." He sighed, and turned his face away from Hisoka and toward Tatsumi's closed office door. "Back in Kyoto, when I summoned Touda... he didn't mean to save me. He only wanted to save you: I was a mistake."

Hisoka blinked. "Did he actually say that?" It sounded so unlike Tatsumi, and yet at the same time strangely in character. _His duty really was even more powerful than his love for Tsuzuki... and the way things unfolded, he failed to uphold either sentiment. _"You might have misunderstood. Maybe he--"

"No. It was totally clear." Tsuzuki swiped impatiently at his eyes, and Hisoka noticed the faint traces of red that encircled them. "Tatsumi didn't care if I lived or died."

"That's not true." Hisoka shook his head slowly. "All he wanted that night was what was best for you: he just didn't know what that was, and so he decided it would be best to honour your wishes, even if that meant letting you die." He paused. "He was... so selfless, and all I could think about was how much I needed you, and the void you'd leave in my life. I didn't care what you wanted: Tatsumi did, because he loves you."

"Hey, Hisoka." Tsuzuki lifted his head slightly, and looked back in Hisoka's direction. "Whether or not you were being selfish, you know I'm happy you came for me, right? You know I'm glad to be alive?"

"Yes. And I'm sure Tatsumi does too: that may be what's making it so hard for him to come to terms with his choice. Every time he sees you, alive and happy, he's reminded that he was willing to let you destroy all that. Even if everything worked out okay, Tatsumi believes that he failed you."

_'I did right by no one. Do you see?' _"You're right," Tsuzuki said, and he exhaled heavily. "I'll tell him. I'll forgive him for that as soon as I can. I just... it's still too soon. It still hurts too much."

"I understand. I'm sure he knows, at least on some level, that you don't hate him for it: he just has to learn not to hate himself."

"Thanks, Hisoka. For everything. I feel better now." Tsuzuki smiled, sat up straight, and ran a hand through his rumpled hair.

"It's nothing," Hisoka said, reopening his book and hoping that the movement would draw attention away from his reflexive blush.

Tsuzuki grinned. "Nope, it's something. And you're extremely cute." He leaned over and kissed Hisoka's cheek lightly. "You're blushing again, 'Soka-chan." His breath traced a warm line over Hisoka's cheekbone to the upper shell of his ear, and Hisoka felt a familiar arm slide around his shoulders. As soon as he began to relax into it, however, a borderline-impolite clearing of someone's throat startled him into throwing it off instead.

"Here are the files for your next case," Tatsumi said, setting the folders down on Hisoka's desk as Tsuzuki fumbled for an appropriate explanation. "Oh, and Tsuzuki, while I realize that you arriving on time is a miracle in itself, I'd appreciate it if you'd try to get some of your work done. While I can nearly reproduce Kurosaki's handwriting, I've forgotten what yours looks like."

"Yes, Tatsumi," Tsuzuki managed, and the noise of his head connecting with Hisoka's desk once again overlapped with the closing of Tatsumi's office door.

"Goodness, Tsuzuki," Watari exclaimed as he walked into the office a few moments later, "you need sugar!" He dug around in his pockets, eventually coming up with three-quarters of a Hershey bar, which he placed into 003's talons. The owl floated over to Tsuzuki, tapped his head with the unopened end of the chocolate bar, and dropped it in front of him before returning to her master. When Tsuzuki didn't immediately lunge for the chocolate bar, Watari frowned and turned to Hisoka. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing that candy's going to fix," Tsuzuki groaned, even as he unwrapped the chocolate and inhaled a healthy chunk of it.

"Fine. Don't give the mad scientist any details." Watari folded his arms in a classic 'miffed' pose, but Hisoka could sense, and therefore appreciate, the sincerity of his concern. "I'll leave you alone, then. Hisoka, remember that you need to pick that thing up today."

"Sure," Hisoka said.

"Alright. Until then." Watari waved at them and continued toward his lab. Hisoka set his book aside completely and took up the new files instead, and Tsuzuki devoured the rest of the chocolate on his way to his own desk, where stacks of two-week old paperwork had begun to gather dust.

"Are you okay?" Hisoka asked a few minutes later.

"I'd be better if you'd do some of this work for me." Tsuzuki's smile was almost imperceptible.

Hisoka sighed, and tossed the files on top of his discarded book. _Definitely headed back in the direction of 'normal'. _"Hand me the stack under the pencil holder."

---

When lunch break came, Hisoka took advantage of Tsuzuki's desperate sprint to the candy machine in the cafeteria to visit Watari's lab. As usual, Watari seemed to be working through his break, but Hisoka didn't feel guilty about disturbing him. _I know it's not the kind of work that Tatsumi pays him to do. _"Watari. Can you give me the potion now?"

"Be with you in a minute, kid." Watari removed a boiling beaker of clear liquid from the gas burner on which he had been heating it and added the contents of a vial of brown powder to it before even looking at Hisoka. "Sorry about that. The potion, right?"

Hisoka nodded, and Watari gestured toward one of the drawers closest to Hisoka. "It should be somewhere in there. Just don't dig around too deeply, and you should be fine. It's in a paper bag." With a glass rod, he stirred the brown, opaque mixture in the beaker, carefully measuring out an indeterminate amount of a white powder before dumping that in as well. "Did you find it?"

The third drawer Hisoka opened contained a paper bag, and Hisoka pulled it out delicately, holding it between his thumb and index finger as though it were a used Kleenex. "Is this it?"

Watari bent his head to peer at the bag over the rims of his glasses. "Yes, exactly." He straightened his neck and turned back to his concoction. "As I told Tsuzuki, it takes about five minutes to act, and should outlast your spirit power. It may take effect on you sooner, though, considering your... smaller frame." He met Hisoka's frown with a chuckle. "Do you need anything else?"

"That depends. Do you have any other information that you think I might be able to use?"

"Just go in with a sincere desire to help, and you'll be fine. You should do even better than I did, what with your abilities and all."

_I wish everyone would stop saying that: I'm an empath, not a mind reader, or even a psychiatrist. Besides, I know the least about Tatsumi: not only does that cancel out even the minute advantage my abilities may give me, but it puts me at a big disadvantage. If anyone's efforts are going to be useless, it's going to be mine._ "Also, I wanted to thank you for before," Hisoka said, seeking a reprieve from the extolling of his cursed talent in a change of subject. "For trying to help Tsuzuki without being pushy. Tsuzuki... both of us appreciate that."

Watari stopped stirring the beaker's contents and turned around. "That means a lot, kid. You're welcome." He smiled, and Hisoka nodded.

"I should get back to my desk," he said, unused to this sort of exquisite awkwardness, the kind that is recorded so fondly in memoir and yet so tainted at the time by the fear of not living up to the moment containing it. As he turned to leave, however, he couldn't resist asking, "What are you making?"

Watari grinned as he poured the beaker's contents into a mug, holding it under his nose in order to inhale the fragrant steam that had begun to permeate the lab. "Tea, of course. What did you think it was?" He took a sip, and sighed. "Hmm... Perfect."

Hisoka blinked, and the stunned look remained on his face until he arrived back at his desk. _Only Watari would cook with laboratory supplies. _He stashed the paper bag in an empty drawer of his desk just as Tsuzuki came back with his arms full of packaged candy.

"Hi, Hisoka!" He dropped the assorted bags onto his desk, drowning the still-unfinished paperwork in a sea of vibrant wrapping. "Want some? I have enough for two."

_As well as for all the rest of the Ministry. _Though Hisoka didn't actually want anything, he accepted a few of the smaller packets and ate their contents dutifully while Tsuzuki began his ritual of sugar-gorging. Stomaching the sickening clumps of over-processed sugar was, in his opinion, a small price to pay for the maintenance of Tsuzuki's good mood.

---

Tatsumi's mind placed Hisoka into the back seat of a car that had clearly seen better days. The windows were so caked with dirt that they had become completely opaque: the upholstery was split, and had begun to spill yellowing stuffing from the seat like foam spills from an over-full cappuccino mug. A glance behind him told Hisoka that the back window had been completely smashed out, leaving only a few shards of glass behind in its rusted frame. _The symbolism is obvious, but what do I do with it?_

In the driver's seat, which was directly in front of Hisoka, Tatsumi sat, flicking his wrist back and forth as though he were trying to turn the non-existent ignition key. Hisoka's gaze moved up to Tatsumi's face, and followed the line of Tatsumi's vision directly to the small rectangle of the rear-view mirror, from which the ignition key dangled like a misshapen air freshener.

"What are you doing?" Hisoka asked quietly, and Tatsumi's hand stopped.

"It's not working," he said, his eyes never moving from the rear-view mirror. "I can go no farther. Perhaps there is no farther to go." He sighed. "There is only what I have left behind me, and the void of remembrance that immortalizes it." He closed his eyes and adjusted the rear-view mirror slightly: the key brushed his hand, but passed right through the flesh, and Tatsumi seemed not to notice it. "The future is nothing but an extended version of the present, Kurosaki, which is itself differentiated from the past only by one's inability to change anything."

"Tatsumi." Hisoka worked his mouth, but couldn't think of anything else to say that wouldn't just be dismissed as 'placatory'. _Say something... say anything! _"The future is what you make it." He took a breath, gathering the workings of a more elaborate thought. "And every day that you spend sitting here, every day that you let yourself feel bound by the past, you choose not to change things. Silence is itself a choice."

"It's so hard," Tatsumi said. "There might as well not be a choice at all."

"But there is. And a lot of people never even get that." Hisoka felt frustration rise in him as he thought about how Tatsumi was squandering the blessing that he himself had so desired growing up. "If you want to be free so badly, let yourself out."

"How?" Tatsumi sounded as though he were entranced.

With a soft growl, Hisoka surged through the space between the car's front seats: his fingers gripped the rear-view mirror firmly, and he snapped it off. It disappeared from his hand as soon as it left the windshield, and the key that had been dangling from it flew off, cutting Tatsumi's face as it flew into his lap. "Stop looking behind you, and use the key. You've had it all along: you've just never been able to see it."

Tatsumi bent over the wheel, hooking one arm around it and supporting his forehead on the palm of its attached hand. "I... I can't. I'm afraid, Kurosaki."

"So is everyone else, but if we can get up and live every day, so can you." Hisoka reached over, intending to take the key from Tatsumi's lap and hand it to him, but his hand passed through the key as Tatsumi's had moments earlier. "I can't do this for you, Tatsumi. You have to do the rest."

"I can't," Tatsumi repeated.

"Do you really think anything the world can throw at you is as bad as this? This..." Hisoka paused. "...existence, this constant self-demolition?"

"You used to," Tatsumi reminded him feebly.

"Yes. And now I know better." _Thanks to Tsuzuki_. "Use the key, Tatsumi. Take what's yours: take your life back."

It seemed too long before Tatsumi lifted the key from his lap by the royal blue ribbon that had previously held it suspended from his rear-view mirror. "It seems so... small. So insignificant."

"It's those things that make the biggest difference: small objects, small kindnesses." Hisoka remembered Tsuzuki standing above him, holding out a cold drink to a day-old acquaintance. "Even though it's in every book, you don't get it until it actually happens to you."

"No. I don't suppose you do." Hisoka could hear the smile on Tatsumi's face as he placed the key into the ignition and turned it. The dirt on the windows vanished completely, and the sudden light blinding Hisoka was accompanied by the sound of the long-neglected engine flaring back to life.

"Thank you," he believed he heard Tatsumi say. "I can handle the rest now."

When Hisoka's senses cleared, he was already back in Tatsumi's bedroom. With a nod and a small smile, he shifted into spirit form and began to make his own way back home.


	5. Where You Have To Imagine The Rest

This is the final chapter of the story, everyone, so I hope you've enjoyed it. If at all possible, I'd appreciate a review to that effect. (winks) Thank you as always for the simple act of reading, and for those of you who went the extra mile to review, here are my replies/personalized expressions of gratitude.

Kiko812: Well, I liked the lab supplies part too, and I'm not all that into science. so... yeah. Thanks for your continued readership. By the way, I read the 'Mating Habits of the Species Shinigami' fic, and enjoyed it: haven't gotten around to the other story yet. Thanks for the fanfic recommendations, as well as for telling me that mine made it to the list. I feel honoured:) Anyway, I hope you like this chapter as much as the others.

GreyGranian: Thank you for the compliments on the key metaphor. I never used to like Hisoka, but I have to admit he's growing on me. And yes, the psychology is a bit heavy... but I think it's eased up in this chapter! I also apologize for the delay in the updates: some of this chapter was very hard to write. Hopefully, the struggles left no lasting marks on the final product. (chuckles)

Kira: I think it's like that with any fandom/pairing: there are a few good fics, and then you have to wade through the work of hordes of 12 year olds who've never heard of a comma, and yet think we want to read their knockoffs of the good stories' best parts anyway. But I digress... Thank you for the lovely, specific feedback. I totally agree with you that a lot of fics have Tsuzuki forgiving far too easily: no matter how fast you can let things go, they still do hurt, and ignoring that is ignoring a lot of what makes the characters human. I'm glad the last chapter made you happy, and I hope to hear that this one was to your satisfaction as well.

Stratus5: Thank you for reviewing! I'm always happy to hear that someone likes my work, and I hope you'll be good enough to tell me what you think of this conclusion as well! Thank you for taking the time to read my story: I appreciate it very much. (nods gratefully)

Chapter 5- Where You Have To Imagine The Rest

At lunch break, Watari, Tsuzuki, and Hisoka met under the same cherry trees that had witnessed the development of their conspiracy to discuss that conspiracy's success, or potential lack thereof. For a while, none of them spoke: Watari busied himself feeding 003 until she refused to eat even one more grain of birdseed, Hisoka escaped into the book he had managed to sneak out with him, and Tsuzuki reclined on the stone bench, his head resting casually on Hisoka's lap as he spun a cherry blossom between his fingers. The silence, which would have been deafening to any outside observer, provided a much-needed opportunity for each of the Shinigami to collect their thoughts, to sort through some of their own feelings.

Finally, Tsuzuki said, "He's not acting any different." The cherry blossom fluttered from his hand, and landed in Watari's lap, contrasting softly with the black pants that the scientist favoured.

"No, he's not," Watari agreed, and the silence returned, heavier this time.

"What were we expecting?" asked Hisoka after a while, setting his book aside. "What did we want to do? What was our goal, through all this?"

"Helping Tatsumi," Tsuzuki said without thinking.

"And how was that help supposed to manifest itself?" Hisoka looked up from his partner's eyes and into Watari's. "What were we supposed to see if this therapy succeeded?"

Watari smiled even as his shoulders sketched out the motions of a shrug. "No idea," he said. "The potion was experimental, remember?"

Hisoka sighed, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. "What a waste of time."

Watari looked away: even 003 seemed disappointed. Only Tsuzuki still held a neutral expression, and when he spoke again, his words mirrored the hope in his eyes. "I don't think it was a waste of time," he said. "I don't think it needs to be something we can see. We never have to know if it worked or not, because it was all for Tatsumi. As long as he feels better, we did what we were hoping to do."

"That's rather disappointing," Watari said, and 003 hooted her agreement.

"It doesn't have to be," Tsuzuki said, lifting himself into a sitting position. "Because, in some ways, it was for us, too, right? We wanted to understand Tatsumi better." He looked at Hisoka. "At least, I did. And... I think I do. To a certain extent. The point is, I'm not walking away with nothing, even if I never know how much we've helped Tatsumi."

"Kindness leaves the donor as changed as the recipient," Hisoka said, and Watari was reminded of a similar quote that had also come from the same unlikely source. "Is that what you're getting at, Tsuzuki?"

"Yep, exactly." Tsuzuki smiled.

"And just because we can't see it right away, doesn't mean the change isn't there." Watari's cautious smile eventually mirrored Tsuzuki's grin. "It could be a gradual process."

"A journey," Hisoka said, the word heavy with a memory that neither of his companions shared.

"So, let's call this a success, then." Tsuzuki's grin intensified, and even the corners of Hisoka's mouth perked up slightly.

"Agreed, if only because we managed not to hurt Tatsumi in the process."

"And, hey, my potion worked!" Watari said, though everyone knew that the potion had been designed for the mission, and not the other way around. "With no side effects... no immediate ones, anyway."

He seemed to enjoy the apprehensive looks that spread across Tsuzuki and Hisoka's faces.

---

"Watari."

Tatsumi's voice, familiar yet unexpected, nearly startled Watari into dropping the test tube of acid that he had been attempting to divide evenly, and he quickly set it back in the appropriate rack before turning around. "Yes, Tatsumi?" he said, and wiped his hands on the skirt of his lab coat.

"I apologize for interrupting your work." Tatsumi nodded in the direction of the test tube rack.

"Don't worry about it," Watari said, and smiled. "It's not any of the work you've given me."

"In that case, I withdraw my apology." Was Watari imagining the playful spark in Tatsumi's eyes, or was it a trick of the light, a strange reflection in the lenses of his glasses? "I have a favour to ask of you."

_He probably needs some of that work I'm supposed to be doing done tomorrow. _Watari suppressed a groan at the thought of working yet more unpaid overtime. "What is it?" he asked as politely as he could.

Tatsumi cleared his throat. "It seems that the Count gave Chief Konoe the use of his private box at the theatre for tonight's performance of George Bernard Shaw's 'Saint Joan': apparently, he can't stand the play. However, the Chief has conveniently thrown his back out, much as he did before the archery contest, and so the tickets have fallen to me." He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew the tickets in question. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in going with me."

Watari looked from Tatsumi to the tickets and back again. "Why are you inviting me?" he asked as soon as he realized that Tatsumi was waiting for him to say something, and instantly wanted to slap himself. _Could I have been any more discouraging?_

Tatsumi glanced over his shoulder before replying. "Hisoka or Wakaba may also be interested, but if I asked Hisoka, Tsuzuki would feel left out, and Wakaba would have to deal with Terazuma's jealousy." He smiled subtly, but unmistakably, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I've come to realize that I know very few people outside of work. None, actually."

"Well, it's understandable. It's hard for a Shinigami to relate to anyone but another Shinigami, isn't it? Death is such a perspective-altering experience, doubly so when it leads to quasi-immortality." Watari leaned back against the counter behind him. "That's how it is." _I don't believe this. Are we actually talking? _The experience was so surreal that Watari almost expected to wake up from a particularly vivid daydream: however, the counter was real enough, as was Tatsumi's presence.

"Perhaps it's better that way." Tatsumi's smile flickered across his lips again, and Watari blinked repeatedly to clear his already-accurate vision. "In any case, about the play...?"

"Oh, right." _Might as well play along and enjoy the dream while it lasts. _"Sure, I'll come. What time does it start?"

"Seven-thirty." Tatsumi set one of the tickets down on the counter to his right. "Try to be on time: they only let latecomers in after intermission."

Watari sniffed as he walked over to collect the ticket, and slid it into the pocket of his lab coat. "Are you insinuating that I might be in danger of that?" _It must be the potion_, he realized. _This must be the change we've been looking for. It actually worked!_

"The employee hours register provides a compelling precedent." Tatsumi smiled again, the gesture nearly obscured by a simultaneous nod. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Watari said, and was barely able to wait until Tatsumi had left the office before punching the air victoriously.

"Total success!" he said, startling 003 from her perch on one of the highest shelves.

----

Tsuzuki intercepted Tatsumi as he was leaving Watari's lab. Tatsumi smiled and nodded a greeting, as though this were any other chance meeting, and though Tsuzuki was sorely tempted to let things go at that, he forced himself not to.

"Tatsumi, can we talk for a minute?"

Tatsumi's eyes scanned Tsuzuki's expression before he replied, "Of course. My office?"

Tsuzuki nodded, and followed Tatsumi into the secretary's office, closing the door behind them. The moment he turned to face Tatsumi, however, he forgot how he had meant to begin. _Damn it... How do I tell him this? How do I forgive him for something I'm not even supposed to know about?_

"What's the matter, Tsuzuki?" Tatsumi eventually said, and the words began to trickle back onto Tsuzuki's tongue.

"Tatsumi... It's about Kyoto."

A shadow seemed to cross Tatsumi's eyes, but his tone remained conversational. "Yes?"

_Don't think. Just talk, like you always do. _"Tatsumi, when you saved Hisoka and I from Touda, I... I know you were conflicted. I know you weren't really sure if you should save me or not." Tatsumi started to interrupt, but Tsuzuki held up his hands to stop him. "No, please, let me say this." Tatsumi fell silent, and he went on. "I just... I want you to know that, even if you had decided to let me die, even if you hadn't saved my life, I wouldn't have held it against you. I know you would have done it for me, because you thought it was for the best." He paused, and inhaled slowly. "I'd have known you were letting me die because you loved me."

The silence that followed Tsuzuki's last words became as heavy as the words themselves before Tatsumi asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Tsuzuki shrugged with practiced casualty. "I just wanted you to know, in case you were still feeling guilty. I know how guilt stays with you, and I didn't want you to feel bad about that if you had no reason to, because that would have been totally unfair... that is, if you were even feeling bad in the first place..." Tsuzuki paused to run a hand through his hair. "I'm not making sense, am I?"

"Regardless, I believe I understand." Tatsumi adjusted his glasses. "Thank you, Tsuzuki."

"No problem. Like I said, I thought you should know." Tsuzuki tried to keep his exhalation silent. _It's done. I did it. And he doesn't suspect anything._

"And I value that." Tatsumi cleared his throat, effectively closing the matter. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

Tsuzuki shook his head. "No, that's okay. I'll let you get back to work."

"Do you think you'll ever become adventurous enough to give that a try?" Tatsumi asked as Tsuzuki's hand closed over the doorknob.

"Someday," Tsuzuki promised, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he stepped out of Tatsumi's office.

He had said all the words Tatsumi needed to hear: in time, he hoped, he would come to mean them.

---

"Working late again, Kurosaki?"

Hisoka glanced up from his paperwork long enough to nod at Tatsumi: his pen barely even slowed. "Someone has to do all of this," he said, gesturing to the neatly-arranged piles before him.

Tatsumi frowned. "I agree, but Tsuzuki should at the very least be helping you." He folded his arms over his chest. "You let him take advantage of you too easily."

"I don't mind: it balances out." Hisoka set the sheet he had been working on aside and immediately began to fill out the one beneath it. "On missions, Tsuzuki does more than his share of the investigating as well as all of the fighting. Doing the paperwork is my way of contributing something to the partnership: it makes me feel less useless."

"You give yourself too little credit, Kurosaki." Tatsumi let his arms fall back to his sides, and his expression softened. "I'm sure that you contribute much more to your partnership than you realize."

Hisoka's pen stopped completely. "I wasn't aware that you were in the habit of offering empty condolences."

"I'm not." Tatsumi paused. "I want to thank you, Kurosaki."

Hisoka looked up. "Why?"

"For not standing in the way of my relationship with Tsuzuki, I suppose. I am grateful for that trust, and the opportunity it's given me to remain a part of his life, if only as a friend." Tatsumi paused. "For protecting him in Kyoto, when I neither could nor would. For saving his life."

"You don't need to thank me for that. All of it... I did it for him, not for you." _Why is he telling me this now? Something's different about him._ Exhaustion fogged Hisoka's mind, and kept him from the simplest answer to his question.

"And yet, because I benefited as well, I thank you." Tatsumi smiled, and the flash of gratitude that brushed across Hisoka's senses brought with it the reason behind his altered perception of Tatsumi. _My empathy... it's working on him. It never did before. _Disbelievingly, Hisoka probed deeper, and was met with a contentment only faintly laced with bitterness and guilt. _I don't believe it. The potion must have worked._

"Is something the matter, Kurosaki?" Tatsumi asked, and his voice snapped Hisoka back to external reality.

"No. It's nothing." Hisoka made a show of rubbing his eyes before stretching his arms over his head languidly. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

"I understand." Tatsumi nodded to the piles of still-untouched paperwork. "Leave it. It's not going anywhere, after all."

Hisoka blinked. "Huh?" he said, uncharacteristically inarticulate.

"Go home, Kurosaki. You've earned your rest: I'll see you tomorrow." Tatsumi's eyes flashed with amusement. "Besides, I have somewhere to be tonight, and I can't very well close up the office with you in it."

Hisoka nodded his understanding even as he rose to his feet. "Thank you, Tatsumi," he said, and retrieved his jacket from the back of his chair. "Good night." With a final nod, he left the office, closing the door behind him before Tatsumi could change his mind.

I'm going to have to congratulate Watari tomorrow, he thought as he stepped out into the fading sunlight. It was almost refreshing to have his pessimism proven wrong, especially in the service of such a good cause, and Hisoka was torn between laughing aloud at the sheer unreality of the situation or pinching himself in a vague, clichéd attempt to retain some sense of immediacy.

In the end, he simply put on his jacket and began walking toward Tsuzuki's apartment.

---

In the solitude of the office, Tatsumi smiled after Hisoka, and his expression was unhindered by the fear of discovery. "It was the least I could have done, Kurosaki," he said, and though his everyday neutrality returned to his face as the smile wilted, its mask no longer closed so completely over his true face. He was unable to explain the change he felt in himself, the impulse that had not only driven him to reach out to both Watari and Hisoka, but blunted the guilt that always tainted his time with Tsuzuki. He was, however, determined not to fear it. _Vulnerability does not always constitute weakness, _he reminded himself, and the words were a talisman against the shadows that had smothered him longer than he cared to remember.

He looked around the office, and saw it differently than he had the day before: it seemed worlds apart from what it had been a week ago. The change was not instantaneous, but it was happening: Tatsumi could almost imagine its migration through the cells of his body.

If he could see it though to its end, he might finally be able to forget what he had turned himself into for the first time since he had become a Shinigami.

With a resolute nod, he adjusted his glasses and went to meet Watari.


End file.
